Holiday

Another national holiday of the patriotic sort has arrived. Washington and Lincoln are men whose colossal contributions to our nation deserve to be recognized. Too bad the celebration has become a big opportunity to save thousands of dollars on furniture and used cars. Government offices and agencies are closed, so I am spared the arduous walk to mailbox at the end of the driveway. Yes, it is truly a holiday when I do not receive Pizza Hut coupons.

As with every holiday, I try to inject meaning and relevance into the day for the sake of the kids. Today was no exception. I tried…but I failed.

This morning they built a big pirate ship out of the kitchen chairs and several blankets. After a few sword fights and a few owies, the pirate ship was abandoned off the coast of the living room. A one-woman salvage crew cleared the shipwreck, but only after Joel peed all over one of the sails. I wish I could have injected relevance and helped their cultural literacy by connecting Washington and Lincoln with a band of surly preschool pirates, but it was a stretch.

Next on the agenda was a viewing of “Mickey’s Twice Upon a Christmas”, decided by popular vote. Had the electoral college (me) become involved, I would have picked “Notting Hill”, but it, like the electoral college, is not understood by children so I had to press the “play” button and watch Mickey celebrate Christmas. Historical relevance had slipped away, much like Goofy sledding down a snowy hill, much like Donald losing his temper. Again.

Today was unseasonably warm and sunny, so after the movie the kids were sent outside to play in the “pig mud”, as Tommy refers to portions of our backyard. It was good to see them get fresh air in February without having to bundle them up. Their boots, however, began to resemble platform shoes because a good three inches of mud got packed onto the soles. After awhile they began to congregate at the backdoor, clamoring for lunch. I felt a little like Andrew Jackson, letting his bedraggled and backwoods buddies into the pristine and pirate-ship free interior of the White House. One of the hazards of outside playtime on muddy days is that eventually the kids want to come inside and whoop it up, swing from some chandeliers and swig milk.

The holiday continued through a Macaroni and Cheese lunch, attempted naps with heated negotiations and a threatened popsicle embargo, to now. The only thing I will take away from today is the sense that being President must be an exhausting job. Kind of like another job I am well-familiar with.

Hail to the mommy.